


Late Night Espressos and Comforting Hot Chocolates

by TheDarkFlygon



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: A little bit of blood, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Caretaking, Coffee, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gift Exchange, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Late at Night, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: Ema Bessho works at a coffeeshop to pay her rent and stay afloat when her hacking job doesn't bring in enough money.Akira Zaizen shares a troubled past with her.Their roads cross again when he enters the shop at half past eleven on a Friday evening.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xFragileHeartx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xFragileHeartx/gifts).



> Wrote that for the lovely Trickstar Lilybell, mod of VRAINS Hell (or, rather, VWAINS HEWL).   
> I, like, loved your proposed prompts so I mushed all of them together to have this lmao  
> I hope you like a little blud in your comfort-focused tea.   
> (I'm sure you guessed I got you ages ago, haven't you?)
> 
> (wow cliché uninspired name is cliché and uninspired)

Working in a coffeeshop was less boring than it had sounded when she had applied for it. Even if most customers were vanilla stereotypes of the Instagram-addicted girl who just wanted to look cool on social media by taking a picture of the trendiest latte some multinational brand pumped out, it was still less boring than just serving these lattes to these clichés.

Quite the contrary, in fact.

 

Ema had taken that job until she could make enough money with cyber-treasure hunting (that was the prettier way to say hacking into people’s personal data and taking bounty hunting missions to infiltrate even more databanks), but she had eventually grown out to like it. The shop is near her place: it’s at the middle point between her flat and the local supermarket.

What was amazing about coffee shops was how you see anyone enter the place: broke students allowing themselves a small hot chocolate once a month, businessmen who didn’t have time to wait in a fancier-branded shop, families, friends or single persons… Anyone could come in. That was what made it so interesting.

 

What Ema liked the most about working in such a place was the diversity of information she could get from these people. Soon enough, she had mastered the art of serving lattes, cappuccinos and other drinks on the menu: she could observe people the way she had loved to do so ever since she was a child watching over her classmates during recess.  

She knew the regulars by heart: Naya Nekono (nicknamed Nyan), the cat lady who always wore cat-patterned sweaters or shirts; Josuke and Katsuya the two obnoxiously loud bros; Ayako Ainana, the decora kei girl who always had something nice to say and something shiny to give to the cashier (she usually gave Ema heart-shaped hairpins)… All of them knew her name, because they had all asked at one point or the other.

 

The best shift she could have to observe people was the night one, ending at midnight. Nobody else ever wanted it: Ema always wanted it. It was convenient: she had less clients than anyone else once the 8PM hour clocked in, people were usually quieter, she had an easier time observing everybody else. Her favorite clients came around that hour: the cat lady was out to buy cat food, the bros were out of practice, the decora kei girl was late-day shopping after classes.

Usually, night shifts were uneventful. The shop was calm, dimly lit. People were more open and outgoing when they were in this calm, serene atmosphere: they’d speak to themselves more loudly, be less prone to hiding their phone screens, spend more time at their table as they watched people in the streets.

 

However, some shifts weren’t like the others. There were shifts where things got different. These were definitely her favorites: she could witness truly unique things happening during these, all the while her barista position would justify her observing eyes. It was a perfect compromise.

Sometimes, some weird and shady people would enter the coffee shop. They’d never say much, but she knew everything about them in seconds: modern-day yakuza, drug dealers, crackheads and delinquents all came in at late hours like that. They thought it’d be easier to hide themselves: they were right, because they didn’t know _she_ was here and that _she_ knew who they were.

These people weren’t, contrarily to how frightening they were to everyone else in every other single situation possible, any worse than other clients. They’d be dry and straight-to-the-point, but they would never threaten to take her life away if she served them too bitter of an espresso. They knew they couldn’t fuck around with her: she had access to data she could always sell them. It was all dirty money; but sometimes, money is needed to survive, and she’d take it from anyone else.

But hey, who didn’t like the thrill of risqué situations sometimes?

 

These shady people who’d occasionally propose her to buy some weed or to purchase data about their targets weren’t the cause of her weirdest shift yet.

 

It was half past eleven on a Friday night when a normal shift took a sharper angle. A guy dressed in a disheveled suit, panting as if he had lost the ability to breathe properly, made his way into the shop. She swore he’d just fall on himself as soon as the hand on the door’s handle would no longer sustain him, yet he managed to somewhat stay afloat. That was a surprise, would she say so herself.

He slammed himself onto the bar, his palm’s skin making a harsh sound upon entering in contact with the plastic. He seemed to be drunk: his eyes were unable to focus, he didn’t control his own body, his balance was merely an afterthought of the latter. There was something seriously off about the guy, so she prepared herself mentally to deal with some irrational drunkard. In a way, it wouldn’t be too much different from dealing with her asshole of a “father”.

 

“Can I help you, sir?” she told him, using her professional politeness as a way not to scream at him not to be a douchebag in her coffeeshop.

He finally looked at her, crouching over the bar, his arms barely supporting the rest of himself. His eyes were truly unfocused, his hair was messier than his suit wanted to be. He reminded her of something, though…

“Give me a… huh…” His voice was hoarse, barely getting out of his throat at all, unable to speak out words for more than a few strings at a time. “An espresso…”

“Sure thing.”

 

Ema turned her back at him, less to prepare the coffee he had just ordered than to avoid his starved glaze. The cold waves endlessly going down her back told her he was still staring at him with his hazardous eyes. What did she do to him to deserve to be stared at by that creep? If she was a believer, she’d have made a prayer as to forgive her sins, but she was too good for “sins”.

The smell of the bitter coffee filled her nostrils as she finally realized something. Why did he even order such a drink at such a late hour of the night? She had become a master at infusions because she was working late: most of the people coming in so late would just order a relaxing chamomile tea and leave soon after. Why was that guy ordering an _espresso_ of everything? Did he want to stay up for the remainder of the night? Whatever the reason, that meant she was even righter to be weary of him.

 

She eventually put the cup on the bar again, steaming peacefully, coffee scent between the two of them.

“It’ll be-”

Before she could announce the price, Ema was interrupted by the sight of his credit card. She was startled enough not to read the name on it: instead, she just transferred the price to the payment machine. She’d just extract the information later on her phone.

“Thank you,” he barely replied as he bolted to a table.

“We close in twenty minutes,” she spoke loudly so he’d hear it, “so make it quick.”

Oops, there went her patience and politeness!

 

Despite how bizarre the situation was and how weird she felt because of it, her glaze still managed to look onto something. The light next to the table showed that his hands were bandaged: she could still see some white between patches of dark red. On second thought, that wasn’t normal at all, wasn’t it? She should have studied his clothes further when she had the occasion…

It was quarter to midnight. In fifteen minutes, he’d have to leave, and she could leave too and browse through the data she would had harvested from the machine. Good riddance: that guy was more suspicious than anything she had seen, because he wasn’t as obviously shady as all the others. It was intriguing and yet… almost scary, in a way.

 

She remained at the other side of the bar for a couple of minutes, scrolling down her phone, when she noticed it was almost midnight. There were no other clients than the suspicious guy anymore: it was time for her to strike. Ema left her bar with confidence and a strong stance, determined not to make her shift take an eternity after it had taken such a weird turn.

What was her surprise when she found him slouched over the table, the cup not empty yet.

 

“Sir, it’s time to leave the shop, I have to close,” she attempted to tell him, hoping he was just slouched and not asleep.

He groggily rose his head to face her, red drippling down his chin and tainting his lips with an inside lipstick.

“My apologies, I’ll leave now…” was all he said before getting up…

Only to stumble in her arms.

 

Ema stumbled back from the weight suddenly put on her. She hadn’t signed up for this. Could she get additional pay for that? She’d have to negotiate with her boss.

“Sir?” she asked, hoping that it’d reach out to him.

He difficultly got back on his own two feet, a hand in front of his face. He was in obvious pain: perhaps it was linked to his bandages. However, she was now sure of his identity and why he was previously disturbing to look at.

“I’m sorry, I’m…” he attempted to say, before she interrupted him with a move of her finger.

“Gee, you don’t recognize me? You’re really out of it, _Akira_.”

 

The man immediately rose his head, as soon as she finished her sentence.

“How do you know my name…?”

“We just attended the same schools from middle high to college together!”

She was kind of offended at how he wasn’t remembering who she was when it should have been obvious.

 

“Ema, is that you…?” he then asked, finally realizing who he was speaking to.

“The one and only! What brings you to my coffeeshop in such a rough shape?”

He stumbled upon his own feet.

“I got in… some trouble, let’s say it that way. You know, past vendettas I never thought I’d get caught into again…”

“I told you, you should have been more careful about your online persona, you idiot. Anyway, I’m still about to close, so what about we catch up tomorrow? You can give me your phone num…”

 

Her voice stopped when she noticed he was clutching his stomach. There was even more red pouring out from there, tainting a white buttoned-up shirt and starting to stain the suit jacket over it. The dim light was still allowing her to distinguish the red clashing against the whites and creams: his arms were also colored.

“You’re _bleeding_!!” she yelled as she pointed out the biggest stain of them all. “Why didn’t you go to a hospital before going in here!”

“I thought about it… but my phone got broken during the fight that injured me…”

She looked left and right, before getting an idea.

“Listen. I’m gonna bring you to my flat, so I can at least patch you up. It’ll be more effective than calling an ambulance in such intricate streets.”

Akira nodded in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with 200% more flat and backstory shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kinda sappy, I feel like Ema wouldn't value friendship that much, but it was fun to write so I hope you'll how appreciate this second part!

It had been a nightmare to bring an injured guy upstairs, even with the help of the trusted elevator. Ema should had seen coming: Akira was bleeding out and his strength was getting weaker by the second. She wasn’t exactly sure of the reason why she had insisted to shelter him in her flat instead of just calling for an ambulance: it would have been much handier to do that. Perhaps a part of herself wanted them to talk again after so many years of radio silence.

Once in her flat, she urged him to lie down on the couch. She knew there were going to be blood poured over it, but if it was getting too bad, she’d just lie a blanket over it and pretend like there had never been blood in the first place. She rushed to the bathroom before she could overthink her couch’s predicament.

 

“I don’t know what you get yourself into again,” she told him as she brought some first-aid stuff in the main room, “but you sure got problems from it. What did you do that time?”

“Someone we gave the data of years ago… He had found out I was working at SOL…”

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter,” she said as she got out some disinfectant and bandages. “Lemme see your injuries, I may be able to do something for them.”

Speaking of which… He had his hands bandaged. When did he get the chance to patch that up? She’d have to ask that.

 

Without even asking, her hands made their business: they took off his jacket and opened his shirt. To be fair, Akira wasn’t resisting in the slightest: he was half-knocked out from the blood loss. She was in top of him and he was laying on her couch: in any other circumstance, it’d at least be advanced flirting. Alas, it was nothing of the kind.

Her eyes were soon faced by a bleeding slash across his abdomen. It didn’t seem to be too deep: it was nothing she couldn’t patch up with some bandages. It was however pretty large, and it seemed painful to work around with, sitting on a major part of his torso.

 

“That guy tried to cut you, right?” she asked, less from curiosity and more to make him stay awake.

“You mean stab…? In that case, yes… I managed to somewhat dodge it, though…”

She sighed as she applied compresses against the wound, realizing the bleeding was mostly done by now.

“You’re not an athlete, Akira. You can’t pretend like you dodged it well. By the way, when did you find the time to bandage your hands?”

“I just happened to have these on me… It’s a quick job…”

“Okay, clutch your teeth, I need to disinfect your wound.”

 

Gloved hands grabbed a nearby bottle and a few cotton pads, pouring the contents on some of these pads, before applicating them gently over the slash. Ema heard muffled grunts as soon and as long as she used the pads over the wound. He truly was calm: she could tell by a glance at his distorted face that he was in pain from the entire ordeal, yet he barely moved and didn’t say anything. It made everything easier, sure, but she couldn’t help but be impressed by what seemed a huge pain tolerance.

It was to be expected by someone who had ended up orphaned and homeless when he was still attending high school, affording for himself and for his sister, while continuing to study. She could still count the number of times he had ended up in troubles because of that, would it be blackmails or making himself sick. There was no wonder why he had ended up becoming a workaholic down the line.

 

“I’m done with that,” she announced proudly. “Let’s bandage that up and you’ll be free to go home, or to a hospital if you want.”

He only nodded in response. She guessed he really was that drained by whatever had happened to him. As such, she picked the white rolls next to her and made her way to patching it all up. It only took a few minutes to get the injured zone to be white.

“I’m sure you’re grateful for the care I’ve just given you, but I never do stuff-”

“How much do I owe you Ema…?”

 

For once in her life, the bounty hunter hesitated to claim her prices.

“Huh… Well, while I’m at it, you should let my swift hands take a look at yours!”

Akira’s face turned to questioning, but he still landed his hands onto hers.

“You’re hesitating…?”

She started to unravel the bands.

“I’m just wondering about what it’ll cost you. I’ve never been a nurse before, you know!”

And started the process of disinfecting everything again.

“I suppose so… I owe you a favor, you can ask me anything.”

And bandaged his hands with clean, white bands again.

“Hmm… Let me think this out. I can’t waste such a fine opportunity!”

 

Ema cleaned the mess up, getting everything back into its small box. As she was about to put it back into her bathroom, she witnessed Akira trying to get up, only to get seemingly knocked back by an invisible force. That was suspicious, but she still went to the bathroom… or did she? Her feet were strangely locked. Unable to decide on where to go, she simply froze in place there, waiting for her brain to sort it all out.

Akira turned his head in her direction, a slight smile on his lips, a dazed expression everywhere else. She should have seen coming that he was weak and probably unable to reach his place by himself. In a way, it’d be the reverse of what he once used to do so much for her: shelter her from her parents in the flat he shared with his sister. How was Aoi doing anyway?

 

That bothered her to do, because it’d be admitting she had missed him. They hadn’t seen each other in years: she had stopped attending college because it was boring, he had continued until he became high-ranked at SOL. They had never contacted each other after that: had they even tried? And yet, she still felt that beating, that tachycardic pulse in her chest that never truly went away, even years later. She hated that: that shouldn’t have been a thing!

But all she did in the end was to bite her lips, curse herself internally and do the only thing that could perhaps calm her heart down.

 

“I guess you can stay here for the night, if you’re too weak to go to your place,” she said in the coldest tone she could achieve.

“I can?” Akira repeated as if to insist on the sore zone. “Thank you very much, Ema. How much do I owe you, now?”

“Stop asking that question, you goddamn idiot!” kept repeating inside her mind, as to never get out yet get somewhat externalized. She didn’t know! Did she even want to make him pay for that? Was it a friend thing to do, or was it truly a mission like she usually saw her life as?

“We’ll see that later.”

 

She sat down on a nearby chair, looking at him with curious eyes. There was something peculiar about the situation that made her curious and, maybe, prone to talk.

“Ema, you can go to sleep if you want to,” he started the conversation with. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’d have thought you wanted to talk more with your long-lost friend, Akira! I’m a bit disappointed.”

If she wasn’t hallucinating, there was some pink on his cheeks. That was quite interesting.

“I didn’t mean it in that way! I thought you wanted to get some rest after your shift…”

“Oh, that? No, I usually stay up later because night is always more interesting to a hacker like your Ghost Girl over here!”

“That makes me think… What have you been up to, Ema, since we parted ways?”

“I’ve become a cyber bounty huntress, but sadly, it doesn’t pay rent, so I work at this coffeeshop. It’s surprisingly not as boring as you’d think.”

“I see…”

 

Akira lay back onto the couch, head looking at the ceiling.

“I’ve been thinking about you, lately, I don’t really know why. I thought I had recognized you in the streets when going to work or going shopping. I suppose I wasn’t wrong…”

“Maybe. I don’t pay attention to passersby.”

“I know that…”

 

His soft, small smile appeared on his face yet again.

“I’m really thankful for you, Ema… I know I may have been cold to you all these years ago, but really, thank you. I owe you big on this one.”

“I know. You’ve already told me so. You really want to repay me that much? I guess money isn’t an issue for you anymore.”

“I believe I know you enough to be sure you never work for free, Ema. Am I wrong…?”

“On this? Yeah.”

Surprised showed up next. His astonishment was too good not to smile at.

“C’mon, Akira! We’re old friends! I at least owed you shelter for all the times you allowed me to stay at your place when I needed it the most. I thought you were the one believing in friendships!”

“I suppose you’re right… Thank you one last time, then.”

 

However, there was still a question lingering in the back of her mind.

“Seriously, what happened to you back there?”

“I got attacked in a street when getting out from work… I had a meeting with a client right before it in the name of SOL, so I tried to make it stealthy, but it backfired on me and the client turned out to be a trap. I don’t remember much because I was knocked out during the fight…”

“And so you went into the shop to get a coffee to try and keep you running, huh?”

“You could phrase it that way… I didn’t recognize you at first, but you definitely were the barista.”

“I’d advise you to be more careful, next time. You don’t want to be mugged in a shady alley and need me to save your ass again, don’t you?”

“Not really.”

 

Then they laughed together again, as if they were sixteen all over again, although she could see his eyelids were starting to close on their own. The espresso’s effect seemed to be running out.

“You look like an exhausted mess,” she told him crossing her arms, “you should probably sleep. You’re supposed to have better habits than I do.”

She did forget to dress him up again after tending to his wounds. Oops. She figured it was better for these anyway, since it eased access to the bandages in case that was ever necessary.

“You’re not wrong there… but, in one condition.”

Her eyebrows twitched. What could he possibly need from her?

“It’s that you also go to sleep now, Ema. It’s already way past midnight.”

“My sleeping is your business now?”

“Apparently my wounds were yours. I think that’s only fair, don’t you?”

She scoffed.

“For tonight only then, if you really insist, you child. I’ll give you that. I can’t have an already injured man get worried for me, can’t I? Well, I could, but I guess you’re a special case.”

“What a lucky man I am, then.”

 

She eventually got up from her chair, grabbed a blanket she had in a closet and threw it on him.

“Take it, it’s dangerous to stay alone,” she said as she winked at him.

“Thank you, I appreciate this gift.”

As she was about to leave the room for hers, she thought of precising some stuff.

“The bathroom is in the corridor, the door the closest to the living room. Don’t touch my computers. The sink is in the kitchen in the back of this room if you need a glass of water.”

She smirked.

“Good night, and have nice dreams of me, your guardian angel!”

Akira laughed it off.

“I can’t guarantee the contents of my dreams. Good night, Ema.”

 

As soon as she entered her room, slipped into some pajamas and lay on her bed, the cyber huntress realized how weird her shift had gone. From observing people ordering their usual drink, she had met up again with a long-lost friend and had to tend to his wounds. Well, she didn’t have to per say, but she still _felt_ like she had to… Friends being friends, she guessed. It was only normal of her to help an old pal in need, wasn’t it?

She didn’t feel like thinking this over. In fact, it had been more draining than she had expected: the rush was running off, leaving her more tired than she had thought it’d make her. Perhaps Akira had been right: she did need her beauty sleep to remain the seducing huntress she was.

 

Oh well, it wasn’t like she was ever letting this friendship go anyway.


End file.
